The wind rises and the tide rises and falls. A little boy walks on the beach, and the sea crosses the sand and retreats back into the sea, leaving only the wet sand. He was barefoot, stepping on the sand, careful to dodge the sharp conch. The water rushed to the beach and soaked his heels, giving him a chilling sensation.

After walking some distance by the sea, he looked back and saw a high promontory, and on that promontory there was a small chapel—the farther away, the chapel became smaller, but the presence of the cape was still palpable. It looks like a horn attached to a giant called the sea.

The little boy walked on, some more distance. On weekdays, he is not alone, there are always other children around him, whether he likes them or hates them. Now he walks alone on the beach and looks aimless.

He picked up a conch from the ground, and the creature in the conch didn't know when it had run away, or if it was a "former home" that had been abandoned a long time ago. The conch is large in the middle and small on both sides, and looks like a fat flute. He flipped the conch, which looked like a flute, and examined it, and after making sure that there were no sharp thorns, no numbness in the fingertips, and nothing strange in the conch, he put it to his mouth and blew it.

There is a reason why he is so cautious, after a certain child picked up a large conch and blew it up because of his playfulness, he lay down for almost half a month because of mouth poisoning, and I heard that he almost died. After that, both he and the other children were much more wary of things like conch, especially in this neighborhood. Their teacher taught them how to identify the seaside gadgets that they could touch and what they couldn't. Every child takes the teacher's teachings to heart because there are living examples around them. Of course, there is also the ridicule of the teacher, which also makes them not want to be the next fool who lies in bed for half a month and almost dies.

The little boy blew the conch, and the conch made a muddy sound, which was not pleasant, and could even be said to be unpleasant. He looked at the conch in his hand, shook his head, and threw it back into the sea. He didn't come out to pick up conch shells to play, so he didn't feel any regrets, and after living by the sea for a long time, he gradually became accustomed to this kind of novelty at the first sight, and then wondered why the next new person would be excited like a child at the sight of a large conch or a large shell - even though they were children. For the little boy, he has already gone through the stage from fresh to normal.

He continued on his way towards the north of the chapel. He didn't go out alone for no reason, not because of his temper and emotions, and he didn't want to escape from that chapel or from the clutches of that teacher. He was able to leave the chapel alone and unaccompanied because he was already in company, a man who was reassuring enough for others but very worrying.

The little boy didn't know how long he had been gone, maybe for a long time, maybe just for a short time, but when he looked back, he couldn't see the chapel anymore.

Suddenly, he stopped, no longer moving forward. It wasn't that he stopped because he was tired, he didn't have any intention of stopping, but there was something ahead of him that stopped him. It wasn't a shell with thorns, it wasn't a terrifying beast, it was something that stopped him that was lifeless.

It was the corpse of a dead man, floating from the north to the south. He didn't know how many corpses there were, because the scene in front of him was so bloody and terrifying that it was impossible to count how many people had fallen—some corpses might not even be a complete person, and it would take several people to put them together to be one.

The body ran aground on the beach and did not continue to float towards the little boy. The shore was red with blood, even the sand was red, which also made the little boy stop, he didn't want to get his feet dirty with blood, so he stood where it was not yet stained by blood, and the water with blood was not far from him, and was pushed back by the clean water.

Among these corpses were civilians in ordinary clothes, warriors in armor, and people in gorgeous clothes, whatever kind of people, who were now dead and lying on this beach, without any difference.

The little boy remembered the teacher's words, death is equal, whether it is a noble, ordinary, or lowly life, after it is lost, it becomes the same, and that appearance is death.

The little boy was not afraid of such hellish scenes, he was used to seeing death. The first time he had a date with death was when he watched his family members, whose faces were already a little blurred in his memory, slowly die due to famine and winter. He was lucky to be the last one alive, so he was finally rescued and came to this chapel. The man who saved him became his teacher, and this teacher was a strange fellow.

"Why are you in a daze?" the voice came from his left, and he turned his head to look over there and saw the girl coming out of the dense forest. The maiden wore a nun's dress and a turban, and wrapped herself tightly, with no skin exposed, only a delicate face. She held a slender wooden stick in her hand, looked at the little boy with a smile on her face and slightly squinted eyes.

"Teacher. The little boy said. It may sound a little strange, but this young, even child-like girl, is the little boy's teacher, and perhaps she looks more like the little boy's sister than the teacher. It was difficult for the little boy to regard the girl in front of him as his sister, his sisters were already dead, and even their faces were about to blur, and the girl in front of him, whom he called the teacher, carved her face deeply in his heart.

"Why did you stop?" the nun walked over to the little boy and noticed that the little boy was not wearing shoes, "Look at you, you didn't even wear shoes, and you ran out like this?"

"You asked me to come to the beach, I didn't want those shoes to get soaked. The boy replied.

"What then, are you going to walk barefoot into this bloody water?" the nun smiled, "I don't think it's a good idea, your feet will stink when you go back." ”

"I'll wash up and go back. The little boy said.

"Then it's up to you, as long as you don't go back with this smell of blood, then I won't kick you out to sleep outside the chapel. The nun said, sounding rather ruthless, but the little boy was used to it, and when she was happy she would give sweetness to all the children, but when she was unhappy, she would play tricks on herself who were younger than her—not only the children, but also the adults in the other chapels.

To the little boy, she is not a disgusting villain, but a strange and troublesome teacher.